


Collecting Fragments

by channilingus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crushing, F/F, Nervous Habits, Slow Burn, first person POV, list making
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 14:50:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10642116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/channilingus/pseuds/channilingus
Summary: Fragments of moments where Hitoka's and Kiyoko's friendship morphs into something else.





	1. Things you said in the backseat of a cab - Hitoka's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these two beautiful souls. ;.;

It’s been three years, four months, and two days since I met her and it only took me around nine hundred and twelve days before I realized I was in love. That’s roughly twenty one thousand eight hundred and eighty eight hours, or about seventy eight million seven hundred ninety six thousand and eight hundred seconds and counting. Or in laymen terms, _entirely too long._ I know because I’ve been doing the math in my journal every month since the first time I thought ‘I like Kiyoko more than a friend.’

I also realize that this habit of mine is quite obsessive, so for that reason I don’t let anyone know of my journal. The amount of embarrassment and shame that would surface if anyone found the spiral bound book with my lists and equations would surely send me to an early grave. Here lies Hitoka, she died of humiliation.

I can’t help it that numbers calm my nerves. It is as though they validate my feelings, as in ‘it must be okay if both sides of the problem equal, right?’ These eternal validations do nothing for my anxieties when we eat lunch together or when she offers me a ride home in her car but they help me fall asleep at night so I allow myself the indulgence.

Frankly, I’ve allowed it for too long.

Two and a half years is far too long to hold onto a crush and do nothing about it. As my mom likes to say ‘either fully commit or get out the way’ and although I’m sure she didn’t mean for me to apply that bit of advice to my homosexual feelings towards an upperclassman, I can’t help but find it encouraging.

I mean, everyone is a little bit gay, right? We all have the ability to identify levels of attractiveness in the same sex, it just all depends on how you interpret those thoughts. And truly, if there was ever a time to experiment it would be in your youth where decisions could be summed up as curiosity. If we are encouraged to try new foods or sports, why could we not sample each other? In much the same way that people may be attracted to other races, surely there is validity in being attracted to different sexual orientations. And honestly, if we were to dissect the ‘perfect mate’ in the modern world where we no longer require certain skills and traits to survive, then most certainly we must look towards what a person has control over—their actions, their beliefs, their conduct—which would matter much more than their socioeconomic, cultural, or racial qualities.

When I began to think of it that way, of course the new list that formed in my journal was titled ‘ _Reasons Kiyoko is the Ideal Mate_.’ This list included very important things like ‘She is interested in her education – is not looking to be a sugar baby’ all the way to the superficial like ‘The way her butt looks in sweat pants makes my legs tingle.’ Currently the list has twenty one items and I am constantly adding new things as I get to know her better. The most recent one being ‘She stood up for Shouyou and Tobio when they came out the closet and someone verbally attacked them.’

It was in that moment, watching her calmly put the teenage dirt-bag in his place, is where my love promptly took on a whole new unhealthy level of hero worship. Could Kiyoko do no wrong? She has amazing grades, plans on getting her Master’s degree, is kind and sociable to everyone that speaks with her, she attracts boys like flies but is so incredibly modest that it is impossible to be jealous of her, she used to run track in high school and even took in a kitten that was found in the dumpster behind the school. She never loses her temper even when boys say inappropriate things or girls try to attack her by calling her stuck up. She doesn’t ignore underclassmen when they ask for advice, she doesn’t act like she is better than everyone else. If there was even a flaw in all those positive traits I guess it would be that she doesn’t seem overly passionate about much of anything, like maybe she is going through the motions because when she meets other’s expectations she feels good about herself?

Due to my inability to quell my curiosity and the rapidly approaching date in which she would graduate college and our friendship would most certainly take the back burner to wherever she goes to next, I decided that two and a half years of only sharing my thoughts between the margins on a piece of paper was going to end.

I’m going to tell Kiyoko how I feel about her, and regardless of her response I will be proud of myself for getting it off my chest. I think I have a lot to offer as a partner and I’m positive that confidence is attractive therefore I will utilize our remaining time together to attract the one person I have been wanting for far too long.

I take a deep breath and ignore my sweaty palms. I look over to the seat next to mine, Kiyoko is searching through the Uber Driver’s iPod for something to play over the radio and doesn’t notice my glance.

I take another deep breath. Okay, here I go.

Okay, maybe another deep breath and then I will be able to do it.

This time Kiyoko slides her eyes towards me as I’m inhaling and suddenly I’m choking on air. Confidence? Who am I kidding? I’m about to suffocate in the back of an Uber all because I can’t say ‘I like you, _like that_.’

“Are you okay?” She asks. I’m nodding fiercely while pounding my chest to jump start my lungs. I’m such a dweeb.

She cracks a coy smile and says, “I remember when I learned how to breathe.”

I cough and sputter a few more times, the blush on my face appearing to be the result of oxygen deficiency to my brain. Finally I settle on my retort, but it lacks any bite. “Rude.”

Kiyoko chuckles lightly and then selects a song. It’s something mellow, with soft drums, a bass guitar, what sounds like a banjo, and some strings. It’s completely her and I fight the urge to pick up the iPod from where she has placed it back in the center console. I want to find out what it is so I can add it to my list titled ‘ _Music Kiyoko Likes.’_

“So…” I start, trying to distract myself from my urges and get back to my goal in mind. We are on the way to the museum downtown to see the new _Body Works_ exhibit and will be meeting some friends there. Kiyoko doesn’t like driving through downtown and between that fact and the cost of parking, it was more economical to split the cost of the ten dollar Uber. Now was the only time we would have semi-privacy and frankly I couldn’t care what the Uber driver thought of the topic.

“Is something on your mind Hitoka?” She cocks her head a little towards me, appearing attentive and receptive of whatever it is I need to say. Why is it always so hard to form coherent thoughts around you?

“I, uh…” I’m stuttering and fumbling hard but all Kiyoko does is patiently wait unaware that I am writing the script for my demise. “Umm, I was…I wanted to tell you something. You have to promise not to laugh!”

I’m rushing and my words are streaming together and when she gives me her soft smile again, the one that should be reserved for cute things like puppies and kittens, I swear I can feel the sweat puddling in the pits of my shirt. Great, can’t breathe, can’t speak, and now I have pit stains. No wonder I’ve never been asked out.

“I’ll only laugh if it’s funny.” She teases.

I take a deep breath.

“I like…” I tell myself to jump off that cliff, and promptly chicken out when I open my mouth. “…someone.”

For a split second, I think I see a grimace on her face, almost like a gnat flew into her mouth and she accidentally felt it on her tongue. It’s gone so quickly I’m not positive if I am just projecting because I feel like I just swallowed a lemon whole and the sour citrus juice is burning away at my stomach. I am such a coward!

“Why would I laugh about something like that?” Her face is blank. I might start hyperventilating if I don’t begin to understand what is happening soon. Reveille, reveille, abort mission! I’m racking my brain trying to reroute this conversation and save face. I pull out more advice from my mother from the dregs of my mind, she says ‘the best lies are always half true.’

“Well…It’s not really…” I look down at my lap and hope that she doesn’t know that liars look down when they make something up. “The truth is Kiyoko, I think I like…another girl.”

I finish my sentence meekly, my inner self throwing every derogatory term I know at myself. When will we get the museum so I can act like this conversation never happened? I hold my breath. My chest is about to burst through my rib cage. I’m positive if I look up the driver might be giving me weird eyes via the rear-view mirror and I don’t even want to begin to imagine what is on Kiyoko’s face.

“You’re silly.” She finally says, and her tone sounds…tense? She places her hand on my shoulder and it causes me to jump in my skin. When I look at Kiyoko, she is giving me that smile again, the one I don’t deserve. The one that causes me pain. The one I wish she wouldn’t show me, because it scares me how much it affects me. “Anyone would be lucky to be liked by you. Don’t let someone tell you otherwise.”

That night, while I’m sitting at my desk and adding information to my journal, after searching for the lyrics I remembered from the song Kiyoko played earlier and after I’ve added another reason to the list that details why she is my special person, I create a new list and I title it ‘ _Things Kiyoko Said to Me.’_

I go to sleep telling myself that I will try again soon, once I rebuild the confidence that was unintentionally shattered with one glance. I hope she still feel that way when she realizes I was talking about her.


	2. Things you said in the back of a theater - Kiyoko's POV

Hitoka thinks she is good at hiding her emotions but truthfully, she isn’t. I mean that in the nicest way possible. She can experience up to 8 emotions in a minute and if you’re paying close enough attention, you can usually identify at least 6 of them. For example, when selecting food from a menu Hitoka’s first emotion is zeal. Even if we are somewhere that we have eaten a thousand times before or we are someplace with a rather horrible selection (read: school cafeteria) she will eagerly read through the whole menu as quickly as she can, scanning for key words or phrases, things she knows she likes. This action always smoothly transitions to confusion. What was that soup I tried last time? Do you remember what so-and-so ordered when we were here together? Why would they think to pickle that?? Once the internal barrage of questions have been shaped then comes the look of contemplation. Does she want a sandwich or an entrée? Maybe she wants an appetizer. Oh God, do I have enough money the get both? Next is panic. Honestly who knows what the worry-wart is asking herself by the time she gets to this stage.

By this time I usually try to help her out. It’s only fun to watch her squirm through dread and fright for so long before she begins looking like a dejected puppy that needs to be sheltered and petted. What can I say, I have a soft spot for cute things.

Queue a sly side-eye to the blond-haired girl next me, who is currently freaking out over what kind of candy she should buy that would complement the bag of popcorn we have agreed to split. She really is too cute when she is lost in her thoughts, twisting and pulling on a strand of hair that framed her heart-shaped face, worrying her bottom lip between her pristine white teeth, shuffling in a way that brought attention to the shape of her hips and the way her skirt flowed from them.

We meet in high school, she was a junior that had transferred from another school and I was in my final year. Sometimes I have a hard time believing that was almost 4 years ago. We live in a city that housed one of the major colleges in the state so it wasn’t uncommon for people to stay home and attend there after graduating from grade school. The college has great accreditation and an impressive alumni roster so it was an easy decision for me to make when it came time for applying. I certainly never asked her where she was planning on going to college after graduation but the transition was so seamless, from being high school friends to being college friends, that it could potentially appear choreographed to an outside observer. It had never been intentional that we stayed friends for as long as we have though I’d be lying if I tried to say I didn’t enjoy her company.

I actually would never say that because Hitoka is my favorite person to be around.

She is genuine to a degree that is so pure it is inspiring, she never lies and is capable in seeing the good in every situation. It’s a breath of fresh air to be around someone so grounded in their positive attitude that they were able calm you without trying. It’s funny to think that someone that could worry a storm about anything and everything was also to same person who centered me. Hitoka is studious and artistic. Confident yet meek. Sociable but inhibited. She juggled a duality of qualities that only added more interesting layers of personality and depth. That was the beauty in the complexity that was Hitoka Yachi.

These layers are what originally attracted me to the younger girl and what keeps me calling her and asking things like ‘want to go catch the matinée?’ Though now when I do I am prompting for an entirely selfish reason. It appears I have developed a crush on my friend.

I’m getting to the point where I’m fairly certain Hitoka likes me too, I just don’t know if _she_ knows yet. Which brings me back to our current location, standing at the register while Hitoka tries to make a decision. I take the opportunity to lay down an idea to help the neurotic girl out. “Those Milk Duds look good.”

She shoots me a look, its first surprise, then she grins and nods in agreeance before she appears to remember that she has been acting awkward around me for the past two weeks and then her whole demeanor is morphing again. She is quickly diverting her eyes back to the floor and ordering Milk Duds to go along with the Sprite and popcorn we have already been handed.

See, this is what I don’t get. She has been shifty eyed with me as if she is ashamed to look in my face. I’m trying to think of when the exact moment this strange behavior started, because she hadn’t acted this unsure around me in years. Sometimes she is changing emotions so quickly I can’t keep up and it gets confusing trying to remember what sequence they came in so I can go back and analyze them later.

I think back to our conversation in the Uber a few weeks ago, the look of utter devastation after I told her anyone should be honored to call her their girlfriend. It made no sense then and it still makes no sense now. Between work and the amount of case study analysis I am required to have done before graduation it has been hard to find a good time to corner Hitoka and ask her what is wrong. Something tells me I shouldn’t let this go.

We take our spoils into the theater and take our seats, up high because Hitoka is kind of short and towards the center because that as the best vantage. We are early enough that the theater ads are still running and the lights are still on in the room. The drink finds itself in the holder between us, popcorn in my lap and the rectangle candy box in Hitoka’s.

“You feeling alright?” I go for the neutral approach to see if maybe Hitoka has just been waiting for the right time to share what is on her mind as well. She was thoughtful like that, always considering other’s workload and stress level before dumping anything else on them. She flinches and I watch her thumb at the cardboard flap of the candy box.

“I’m fine.” She replies.

“Okay,” I say, as offhand as I can muster. “I was just wondering because you seem distracted. How are your classes?”

She starts flicking at the cardboard box, then visible catches herself and stops the action. “Going good, my advisor was right about me enjoying Discrete Mathematics.”

“That’s good, I heard that was a hard class. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” I reply sincerely. I offer her some popcorn and watch as she timidly takes a few kernels.

“So…did you ever tell that person how you feel?” I decide to go in for the kill, this roundabout way was getting nowhere if Hitoka refused to look me in the face and spill the beans. She jumps in her skin again, and gives me a deer in the headlights look. In a spilt second she is blushing hard and her eyes are back to avoiding my face. Her head shakes back and forth vigorously.

If that isn’t a clear answer, I don’t know what is. Now the debate is on, do I assume and make the first move? Do I drag this out and enjoy her twitching and squirming? Do I ask more direct questions? Should I try more encouragement?

I realize that Hitoka’s worry-wart tendencies appear to be rubbing off on me.

As the lights dim and the movie begins to roll, I lend close to Hitoka’s ear and allow my breath to graze the shell. I’m so close that as my lips move I feel them brush against the delicate body part. “You should tell them how you feel, you might be surprised by their response.”

Her head snaps in my direction as I recline back in my seat and pop a few kernels of popcorn into my mouth. I smirk, and I know she can see it through the darkly lit theater, because she is blushing.


End file.
